In Dreams
by starhawk2005
Summary: Loki's been searching for his Sigyn. Written for the Loki's Dirty Whispers Winter 2013 Fanfiction Contest on Tumblr.


**In Dreams**

**Author: starhawk2005**

**Fandom: Marvel's Avengers**

**Date: February 2013**

**Pairing: Loki/ Reader**

**Rating: Adult (18+).**

**Summary: Loki's been searching for his Sigyn.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own. Except maybe Sigyn? Oh wait, that's a mythological character. Never mind!**

**Beta: As usual, all thanks and valentines go to canyr12 for her assistance.**

**Author's Notes: Written for the Loki's Dirty Whispers Winter 2013 Fanfiction Contest on Tumblr. Sentences in bold were 'whispers' that had to be included in the fic.**

**Didn't win, but it was an interesting challenge to try!**

I have no idea where I am. I went to sleep in my own bed – didn't I? – but now I'm in this freezing cold, dim room, with rough rock walls and deep shadows in every corner.

What the hell is going on?

"Who are you?" asks a male voice. I turn towards it with a gasp. His accent is odd, increasing my confusion and fear. He leans forward into the dim lighting, and I freeze.

He's got dark hair, skin that glimmers pale in the weak light, and dark clothing of some kind adorned with scattered gleams of metal.

I've never seen him before, I'm sure I haven't, and yet…there's this weird sense that I _know_ him?

"I asked you your name, woman," he repeats harshly. There's a clinking sound, and I realize he's shackled to the wall.

I tell him my name, but his frown only deepens. He cocks his head at me, eyes narrowing-

-I jerk awake in my own bed, shivering. I'm on the verge of tears, and I don't even know why.

Ever since I was a child, I've had these dreams about a man. Sometimes he's standing next to me holding my hand or embracing me. Other times he's far away, beckoning to me across a canyon or a busy street.

He has no face, or one that I never remember, but he's always tall, with dark hair and pale skin, and dressed in black with green and gold accents of some kind – a scarf, a bracelet, in some cases a full-on helmet.

Maybe that's all this was. Except, this time I actually saw his _face._

Well, it probably doesn't mean anything, I tell myself. Just a dream.

The next morning is pretty routine. I don't have the most exciting job, but it pays the bills.

But the mystery man's face keeps intruding. It's not like I haven't ever thought about him during the day before, but never like this. Every time I blink, I think I can see his face for a tenth of a second on the backs of my lids.

So when I wake in the strange stone prison again that night, I'm not surprised at all. Although that doesn't stop me from feeling _afraid_, too.

"Back again, Midgardian?" the man asks. He leans forward, just like last night, but this time he gives me a slow once-over, a smirk emerging on his face. "I begin to think I know who you are." He says, and he sounds very pleased.

"Yeah, well," I retort, "That makes one of us. I have no clue who _you_ are." I'm starting to shiver, so I wrap my arms around me, and I hope I wake up soon.

"Oh, I think you do." he says, still smirking.

I shake my head. "Um, no. I don't."

"And yet, you keep dreaming of me. Do you not think there is a reason _why_ you are here? Why you have dreamed of me so often?"

"I think I don't want to know."

"You came here to free me, mortal. Because you are mine. My Sigyn."

I shake my head angrily, and tell him my name again.

"Your mortal name is irrelevant. You have dreamed of me, you are here. And if I am not mistaken, you will aid my escape." He stands, and there's no longer any doubt in my mind that this is the man from my dreams.

"You are Sigyn, and you are mine. You know my name, too. Say it now."

I shake my head again, but a name still comes out of my mouth, without me even planning to speak it, the syllables ringing in my ears.

"Loki."

"Yes, my dear one," he purrs. "Step closer. Let me touch you."

_No,_ my brain says. But my feet aren't listening. They carry me forward until I'm standing right in front of the mystery ma- No. _Loki._

_God of Mischief and Lies. _I know all the legends. Norse mythology is something of a hobby of mine.

"Long have I sought for you. For the one who can help me escape any prison, unlock any door. The one I am fated to love. My beautiful Sigyn." He takes my hand, and it's like a pulse of green light fills the prison cell. A moment later, his shackles shimmer and disappear.

He's free.

He lets go of my hand, and I scramble backwards, trying to get away from him.

This can't be real, can it? Gods don't actually exist.

I'm going insane. I must be.

He hasn't moved; he just stands there watching me. "Can it be that you do not know yourself?" He steps closer.

"Get away from me!" I snarl, pressing myself to the rough walls. "I'm _not_ yours."

He stops. "You are of Midgard," he says. "No doubt you have heard something of my supposed crimes. Even if they were true – and the bulk of them are _not_, I assure you - you need have no fear of me." He backs away, giving me more space. "**I swear to never lie to you, I'll never trick you, deceive you or hurt you, but I promise you, one day, you will be mine. You will say yes to me**."

I shake my head again, but the room is dissolving in front of me. For a moment, it's just Loki and I, standing in a foggy grey space, and then there's nothing.

I open my eyes, alone in my bed. And I can't stop shaking.

Nothing happens for days, and I start to relax. _Just some crazy dreams,_ I tell myself. _Just stress._

What else could it be?

That's until I go to bed…and wake up in the middle of the ocean. I struggle to tread water, coughing, and I can't see land or a boat anywhere. Just water and the endless horizon.

I'm getting colder. I'm going to sink. I'm going to _die_.

I hear a splash behind me, I turn-

My jaw drops open, salt water splashing into my mouth. I cough and sputter, but the scene in front of me doesn't change.

It looks like a very angry version of the Loch Ness monster. And it's coming towards me. _Please, God, let me wake up. I don't want to get eaten by a goddamn sea serp-_

Powerful hands wrap around my shoulders and yank me up from the waves as if I am light as a feather. The hands turn me around, and I find myself face-to-face with Loki. He gives me a quick grin, holding me effortlessly against him with one hand. Green lightning sizzles from the other, and behind me I can hear the beast screaming in pain and rage.

I bury my face in his armoured chest, trying to shut out the roars of the beast and the stench of burning flesh.

It's over soon enough. Loki laughs maliciously, and I glance over my shoulder just in time to see the beast, smoking, sink into the ocean.

"There, my love. You are safe now." There's a dizzying sensation, and then I find us both standing in a field. I shake my head, but I didn't imagine the ocean – my clothes are drenched, my hair dark with water and sticking to my face. And I feel so _cold_.

Loki steps close to me, his hand brushing against my cheek, and before I can even think to flinch away, gentle heat envelops me.

When I next glance down, my clothes and hair are dry. "Is that better, my Sigyn?"

My first impulse is to thank him, but then I remember what he's the god of. "Did you do this? Is this a scam, so that I'd feel I owe you something?"

He blinks and looks wounded. "Did I not say I would never trick you? I admit, this event was because of our connection, but I certainly did not wish-"

"What?"

He gestures. "Fighting the Midgard Serpent was_- is-_ a memory of mine. That is why you are dreaming of it. Fate has entwined our lives, and thus our past memories, together."

I shake my head. "_Thor_ fought the Midgard Serpent, not you!"

He laughs a little bitterly. "According to your fellow Midgardians. Again, I repeat – they do not have everything right. Apparently being saved by a god of mischief does not please the ear as much, as if the tale is told with the saviour being the thunder god."

"I don't understand any of this!" I protest.

He smiles at me. "Is it not obvious? Nobody gets to eat you….but _me_." He smirks evilly.

"That's not what I meant," I huff. I cross my arms over my chest. Then, his last comment _really _sinks in. "Don't even think about it, Loki," I scowl at him.

And yet, slow heat curls in my belly. I try to convince myself it means nothing.

"Oh, but I _am_ thinking about it," he steps closer to me, eyeing me up and down lasciviously. "And so, my dear Sigyn, are _you_."

He licks his lips and looks me right in the eyes, and I can feel my cheeks heating in a blush. Despite myself, I can't help wondering just how skilled he is in that department. It's been a long time since I've made love to anyone. I miss it.

"I promise you, my Sigyn, that you will enjoy every moment," he glides even closer, a purring note in his voice. "I plan to use my infamous 'silver tongue' to discover every fold and ridge and tender spot between those lush thighs of yours."

His words make heat spool in my belly again, and my knees want to start shaking. But he's not done. In that same sinful tone, he continues: "**You will beg and you will scream and you will plead for every inch of me to fill you until your voice is hoarse and your legs are shaking and your mouth can no longer find the strength to close. Only then will I remove my mouth from you and take your body with all the strength a god can possess**."

Nobody's ever been this direct with me. I can't decide if it's hot, disgusting, or some confusing combination of both.

I go back to safer territory, trying to ignore the frustrated ache in my belly. "Why is this happening?" I ask plaintively.

He stops and fixes me with another intense look. "You are Sigyn, and you were made to be mine. What more explanation is needed?"

"Even if I believe you- why _now_?"

"Many millennia ago, I searched for you. I sought you across all the Nine Realms, all the worlds…but you were not to be found. I could only conclude you had not yet been birthed, my Sigyn."

He turns a little away from me. "I had planned to search for you again," he continues, "but as of late I have been…._busy_. After being imprisoned for my alleged crimes, I could only _call _for you. But still, you heard me. And so here we are!" He finishes with a grand, sweeping gesture.

I shake my head. "I don't believe you."

He scoffs. "Your belief is not required. You answered my call, and your presence released me from Odin's shackles." He cocks his head at me, then he's standing in front of me. He moves so fast, I have no time to try to dodge away. Warm fingers catch my hand, and he raises it to his lips. He's close enough for me to finally realize his eyes are pale blue, and just how handsome his face is. Again, I feel that warmth in my belly and weakness in my knees, as his lips press against my fingers. He pulls away and grins as if he knows what I am trying not to feel.

Angry at my reaction, I jerk away from him, turning my back on him. "I don't care what you think. I don't belong to you. I don't _want _to help you. I have a life, and goals, and they don't include you."

Behind me, he says softly. "**Did you think I would not consider your happiness? You want Asgard? You shall have it. Midgard as well. A home with children? It shall be yours. As long as you are mine forever, my love**."

"Pretty words from the god of lies," I hiss, refusing to look at him. It doesn't matter if I want him, if he saved me, if I was meant for him. This is not my life. I have a life already, such as it is. A nice, safe, predictable, comfortable life.

"I also know a lie when I hear one. You cannot lie to me, my Sigyn. I know you know the truth. But I will not force you to be with me, or to give yourself to me. In time, you will know yourself, who your god is."

I shake my head, but the dream (memory?) is unraveling, coming apart around me like a ripping scarf.

I'm glad to leave the confusion behind.

The dreams end, and for nearly a month, I am happy. Or so I try to convince myself.

I repeat to myself over and over that it was all just that, dreams, and I go about my life.

Though I can't help wondering – what might it have been like? What would _he_ have been like? My life is safe, yes. But boring.

And lonely.

There's too many nights where I wake up sweaty and aroused and panting, achingly wondering how it might have been, 'giving myself' to him. At some point, I start to think that maybe I should have given him a chance.

Fantasies follow, which do nothing to help my fading desire to hold on to my old life. I picture us in bed together, his mouth on mine, on my breasts, my thighs. His tongue sliding between my legs, teasing me. It's too easy to imagine him on top of me, pinning me down with his strong hands, thrusting himself hard inside me, my name ("Sigyn!") on his lips.

So when I get home from work one day and he's sitting on the stairs leading up to my apartment, I don't scream and run.

Instead, he wordlessly holds out his hand, and I take it.

"Say it, my love, and I will give all that I have to you."

I know what he is asking. _'You will say yes to me'_, he'd told me. I don't even hesitate. "Yes."

I barely notice him scooping me up and carrying me into my apartment, but he must, because the next thing I know, we're on my bed, and he's taking off his clothes.

Any modesty I may have felt is gone. I help him take off his jacket, his button-down shirt, his pants and everything else. I let him help me take off my own clothes.

Our limbs entwine around each other, and his weight is pressing me down into my bed, and his hot lips burn against my lips and my throat like a brand, and it all feels so _right_, I wonder why I ever resisted.

He kisses his way down my body, and it's like tiny, pleasurable shocks every time his lips touch my skin. His rough tongue caresses my folds, and I arch and cry out, sweat beading on my overheated skin. I'm on fire, I _burn_, but I still want more.

He pulls away and I blink, confused and hungry for more of his touch. _Why is he stopping?_ He moves to stand at the foot of the bed. "In case you still doubt, I can offer one more proof that you were born to be mine, my love." Before my eyes, he changes. His skin turns blue, etched with alien patterns, and his eyes go blood-red. Even from here, I can feel the chill radiating off him. The change is shocking, and yet…it's still _him_.

"I was born a Frost Giant," he explains. "And the merest touch of my hand would wound and kill any ordinary Midgardian." He smiles and climbs back up onto the bed next to me. The chill enfolds me, but it's almost soothing, after the heat. "But you are not ordinary, my Sigyn." His hand slips around my neck, and it's _cold_, but shockingly sensuous. No pain. His icy breath caresses my face, and I push my hips against him, _wanting_.

"Others would call me monster, but-" His cold tongue invades my mouth, and I shiver and tangle my fingers in his hair, wanting _more_. "**My dearest, I see the desire in your eyes when I show my true form. I wonder how your beautiful body would react if my ice cold, wet tongue traced the contours of your breasts**." He does just that, my nipples stiffening and my whole body shuddering. "Oh God, please don't stop," I beg. He chuckles darkly. "**Can I go lower? Oh, I think I shall. That shudder is not from the chill**."

Cold hands spread me wide, and I nearly scream with delight as he teases me with icy fingers and wintry tongue. It's like nothing I've ever felt before, pleasure and delicious nearly-pain, but I want so much more. I feel like I've been waiting forever.

But as he once promised, he teases me mercilessly. It's not until my voice is raspy from begging and pleading and screaming in frustration that he positions himself between my legs and sinks himself roughly, _coldly_ inside me.

Every thrust seems to generate sparks between us, shocks of ice and heat, and I'm going to be lost any moment. I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling my climax coming-

"No," he says, his cold breath stroking my face. "**Open your eyes, I want to see it when you come undone against me, feel your body clench around mine while you look into my eyes and know that you are forever mine**."

I do, and I am. Forever.


End file.
